Of Cynical Disposition
by The Feisty Rogue
Summary: Normally, Tony would smirk at the implication Natasha was less than capable, grin as he listed the ways he'd saved the world on multiple occasions. Now he just sighed, weary.


**Of Cynical Disposition**

* * *

Natasha watched as Tony and Pepper's marriage crumbled and withered away. She'd predicted it from the start, had seen their terse and brittle interactions when she'd infiltrated Stark Industries, and had said nothing.

They obviously loved each other very much. But Natasha knew that love could not sustain a marriage on its own.

It left Natasha in a complicated situation. Tony Stark was her teammate, her leader, her inspiration. She'd never tell him, but he inspired her to pick herself back up, no matter what put her down. Conversely, Pepper was her friend, one of the few women that truly understood what it meant to be a powerful woman in a man's world. The divorce had been messy, bitter. In the end, Natasha found herself going to the one that would need her the most.

Tony was standing on the roof of Stark Tower, staring down at the city below. The sun was beginning to set, silhouetting skyscrapers against a molten gold sky. Natasha scuffed her feet as she walked toward him, in order not to give him a fright. There was a bottle of whiskey next to him, unopened.

"Hey," she said, voice soft.

Tony twitched, tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Come to give me a talking to? I'll pass on the lecture, thanks. I'm already aware of my many failings, Pep made sure of that."

It hadn't been hard to hear the argument that had been the final straw in their marriage. It had been nearly a year since they'd defeated Thanos and buried Steve, Rhodey, Wanda, Vision, and Sam, and countless others. Tony had been miserable the last few weeks, unbearable to be around. He always took guilt onto himself. It made him lash out, be cruel.

Pepper hadn't understood. They'd had a screaming fight in the kitchen about the fact that Tony couldn't sleep, didn't even try, if he was ever going to try to move on. Natasha had been in the lounge with Bruce and Clint, both of whom had fled. She'd stayed, and had seen the shame on Tony's face when he stormed out to find her there, the chagrin on Pepper's.

"I'm sorry," Natasha said. She joined him on the ledge. It was surprisingly peaceful, even with the wind buffeting at her hair. She looked down. It was a long drop. If she fell, she'd probably die, unless Tony suited up and came after her.

If Tony fell, the suit would swarm around him, billions of nanobots working to obey their master. He'd barely make it two stories down before it would catch him.

"Life is shit," Natasha said. "We're all grieving. Pepper wasn't there. She doesn't understand."

Tony huffed, peeking sideways at her.

"You know, I'd have never have pegged you as one to take my side in this argument."

His gaze was dark, inscrutable. Natasha shrugged.

"You're my friend, Tony."

"So is Pepper."

"Pepper hasn't saved my life more times than I can count."

Normally, Tony would smirk at the implication Natasha was less than capable, grin as he listed the ways he'd saved the world on multiple occasions. Now he just sighed, weary.

"That doesn't mean you're obliged to be here."

"Obviously," Natasha said. "I'm here because I want to be."

* * *

The next few weeks were painful. Natasha paid Pepper a visit; she was living in an apartment in Queens. The apartment was tastefully decorated. It wasn't new. Pepper had owned it for at least two years. Natasha took in the implications of that silently, but she could tell that Pepper knew exactly what Natasha was thinking.

"I appreciate the visit," Pepper said stiffly. Happy Hogan was seated on the couch, looking as if he wished he could be anywhere else. Natasha completed the niceties, then left, returning to Stark Tower. The trip had at least confirmed one thing: Pepper would not be getting back together with Tony. Their on/off relationship had finally come to an end.

"Happy's looking after her," Natasha told Tony. He was bashing away at a chest piece from an old, outdated armour. It didn't look like he was doing very much with it.

"Good," he grunted. "Good." He continued to bash at it, AC/DC blaring over the speakers, sweat gleaming on his tan skin from the exertion.

Natasha picked a corner and curled up on a desk, out of the way. She sat, watching, contemplative. She wondered if Tony needed a rebound fuck, or if that would just make matters worse. After a few hours, Tony seemed to tire of his endless banging, throwing the hammer to the floor.

"Why are you here, Natasha?" he asked, not turning to look at her.

"I've nowhere better to be."

Tony scoffed. "Sure. Sure you don't. Shouldn't you be doing top secret super spy stuff?"

"I gave that up long ago," Natasha said. "When I fled the country with Steve, remember? Once you commit treason, they don't tend to give you your old job back."

"So, you want me to put in a good word, is that it? Speak to Ross, get the ball rolling, so to speak."

"No." Natasha slid off the table and into Tony's space, forcing him to meet her gaze. "I'm here for you, Tony. We all are. I don't want anything. I don't need anything." She swallowed, feeling exposed, hoping he wouldn't catch her in the smallest of white lies. "I'm your friend."

"You're not who I always expect you to be, Nat."

"Who do you want me to be?"

When she'd first said that to Steve, testing the waters, he'd swanned past her question as if she hadn't said it at all. Tony, however, was a man who'd played the game all his life. His eyes narrowed and he stepped forward, so close she could feel the heat from his body.

"Is that what you're offering?" he said, eyes burning. "Is that what you want?"

"Is it what you want?" she countered. His hands hovered by her hips, not quite touching, undecided.

"Ms Romanov," he purred, and Natasha took a step back as the mask Tony wore instead of his true emotions slid into place. "You should have said something."

She rolled her eyes and scooted back onto the table, watching as confusion and indecision flickered in his gaze.

"Talk me through the specs for my stingers, Tony," she said. She kept her voice soft and her expression neutral.

Tony hesitated, then gestured to the ceiling, FRIDAY taking it as permission to project the hologram. As he talked, he paced, hands jerking at the diagram; twitchy, nervous, uncertain.

* * *

Another year passed. Tony and Pepper could just about be trusted in the same room if they had Stark Industries to talk about. The grief they all felt weighed Natasha down like a lead chain about her neck, but she continued on, head held high. She spent a lot of time watching Tony work, sketching in a notebook, enjoying the view of a man accomplished in his field sweating over expensive and powerful machines.

Tony grew to trust her, as much as he trusted anyone, as much as Natasha could stand to be trusted. One night they'd gotten ridiculously drunk off his expensive scotch and ended up passed out watching The Princess Bride. They began to spar, cautious and wary of the damage the other could deal.

Natasha enjoyed pinning Tony the floor, straddling his waist, fingers tight about his wrists. Tony enjoyed being pinned, but he never followed up on the heated looks he gave her. Never, until one day, he managed to pin her.

"Not bad for an old man," Natasha joked, squirming free. Instead of letting go, Tony tumbled them both to the floor, bridging himself over her.

"I'll show you old." He rolled his hips against hers, his eyes bright with expectation. Natasha closed her eyes and bucked up against him with a groan.

"FRIDAY, lock down the doors," Tony instructed.

"I'm not looking for love." Natasha gasped as he began to kiss down the side of her neck.

"That's good. I don't have any left to give," Tony mumbled into her skin.

Love was for children. Natasha smiled and knew she'd be happy with something real and tangible instead.

* * *

_Word Count: 1374_

_Auction D23/3. Origin Story — Black Widow [1374 words = 27 coins]_


End file.
